It had been dead easy to drift off, barely had to close his eyes, and he hadn't been closer to waking of natural causes but he snorted and stirred at Jo's voice.
"Hey," he growled through his dry, scratchy, throat. He was sure he could hear his eyelids rusting. He was also sure that, though he could barely smell anything, Jo's soup was the best thing he had ever, ever smelt.
He expended a mighty effort to pull himself up the pillows. "I'm ready," he said, looking like a strong breeze would knock him flat again. He didn't care. He was about to experience a new sensation.